


Including Anna

by Fericita



Series: When All Is Lost [38]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies), Frozen 2 - Fandom
Genre: F/M, child Elsa, toddler Anna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22133182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fericita/pseuds/Fericita
Summary: This one takes place as they are new parents, and leads up to the night of the accident and the visit to the trolls for healing.  Thank you @the-spastic-fantastic for the beta read and especially for the wonderful line about parental worry. Is it any wonder we feel a kinship to these characters?
Relationships: Agnarr & Iduna (Disney), Agnarr/Iduna (Disney)
Series: When All Is Lost [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571230
Comments: 6
Kudos: 55





	Including Anna

“Agnarr! Quick, grab her! Before she goes to the fireplace again!” At Iduna’s words, Agnarr rushed into the room and scooped up his youngest daughter before she could push on the screen separating the fireplace from the girls’ bedroom. The fire wasn’t lit, but the soot would be a mess and his formal Naval uniform was still being cleaned from the last time Anna had gotten into it and given him a hug. Elsa might have magical ice powers, but Anna seemed to have magical mischief powers. 

Agnarr picked up Anna and threw her up in the air, laughing with her as she gave a delighted shriek. "We have a whole staff! Maids! Cooks! Nannies! Can any of them keep you out of trouble, my dear?" He set Anna on the bed, tapped his nose against hers gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Iduna paused again in the story she was reading to Elsa and smiled at Agnarr. "Yes, but you're her father. And I don’t want a maid or a cook or a nanny to put our children to bed. Besides, the staff are all through for the day. Now the mischief management is up to us.”

Anna had been with her mother and Elsa until the draw of the fireplace had lured her out of bed. Now all four of them sat together, Agnarr wedging himself between Anna and the side of the bed, trying to keep her from any more bedtime adventures. Iduna continued the story about a mermaid and a prince, Elsa listening raptly, Anna getting sleepy. Agnarr smiled as she read, not paying attention to the story. He was lost in a memory of when Iduna had surprised him by jumping down from a tree while he read the very same book. When they had both been lonely and without a family. He looked at his daughters and his wife, and felt a rush of love at their presence. He didn’t want to be without them, without his family, ever again.

The story read, lullabies sung, prayers said, kisses given, denials for last glasses of water issued, Agnarr and Iduna closed the door behind them and walked down the hallway to their sitting room. Agnarr sat down with a heavy sigh and pulled Iduna down next to him on the couch. She turned and laid her head on the end of the couch and put her feet in his lap. He slipped off her shoes and began to rub her feet, their own nightly ritual. They were silent for a while, enjoying the quiet after the joyful chaos of putting the girls to bed. It was especially hard in the summer months when the sky stayed bright long past when they wanted to girls to be asleep.

As he massaged her soles, Agnarr mulled a thought that had been nagging at him with increasing persistency for some time. “Before we were married, you told me about a tea you could make to be sure any…premarital activities didn’t result in a baby.”

Iduna smiled, thinking of that conversation. “Yes, and I believe you told me you had to stay pure and kingly, duty over desire, something something. Aren’t you glad we’re married now and you don’t have to worry about that anymore?”

“But I do worry.”

Iduna tilted her head with a quizzical look. “Worry? About what?”

“About having more children.” His hands stilled, but kept holding her feet.

“Is this because Anna climbed out of the window last week? And used your scepter for a fairy wand? She’s two. It will get easier.” Iduna rubbed her forehead. Sometimes it was exhausting to even think about the antics of her youngest daughter.

Agnarr hugged her knees to his chest. “It’s not about that. When you carried Elsa, I worried for you, cold all the time and shivering instead of sleeping. Anna’s birth was difficult. And…Revna’s before that.” His voiced hitched on the name of their second born daughter. Who was born but did not live.

Iduna swung her feet to the floor and sat up, her body facing him, her hands taking his. He felt her closeness and drew strength knowing that she was now with him and whole once more. He cleared his throat and continued. “And it’s not just the magic – the ice, the heat. My mother died during my birth. My father said she seemed strong and healthy right up until the end. But nothing helped her, not even my father begging the mountain men to comb for trolls and bring any healers to the castle.”

“Agnarr, I’m fine! I’ll be fine.” she brought a hand to his face, running her thumb over his mustache, cupping his cheek like he was one of the girls when they felt scared.

Gerda knocked on the door and entered with a tray of glogg and chocolate.

“Now I’m really fine! Thank you Gerda!” Iduna reached for the tray, broke off a piece of chocolate, and sighed as she ate. 

Agnarr picked up a mug of glogg and handed the other to Iduna. He tapped his against hers, saying “Skal,” good health, a toast as well as a wish.

***  
It was a warm October day, and Iduna was harvesting the last of the lingonberries on the castle grounds. She was hoping to make a batch of vattlingon for Captain Calder who would distribute it to the departing vessels bound for long journeys. It was the best remedy for preventing scurvy, and the sailors enjoyed the taste of home.

Elsa was helping, and had only squished a few berries while adding to the basket Iduna held. Anna had tried to eat one on off of the shrub, but made a face at the tart taste and spat it out in the dirt. Now she was sitting in a particularly comfortable patch of dirt, trying to plant the half-eaten berry so a new shrub would grow. Mostly, she was stabbing the trowel into the soil and then placing the dirt over her legs while giggling.

Soon Elsa tired of helping and sat down next to Anna, trying to make a trowel out of ice. Anna stopped her digging to admire her sister’s attempts, clapping and laughing as Elsa’s efforts looked more and more like the trowel Anna held.

Iduna paused in her work to watch them, grateful that her daughters had each other, grateful that she had them. And then, the prickling sensation of sadness came. Like a harvest, it kept cropping up, never lay fallow for long. Her grief for family lost never quite went away, just appeared anew in unexpected ways. Like watching Elsa clasp her hands together and recognizing her mother’s mannerism. Seeing Anna’s laugh and thinking how it was an echo of Duvka’s. It was a joy and a sorrow. To see what was lost in what she had gained.

Maybe later she could pull Agnarr from his duties so the four of them could pick some more berries in the woods nearby. 

As if by thinking about him summoned him, he appeared, walking out of the castle towards their spot in the garden. He must have been able to see them from his meeting with Minister Wollen.

“Good afternoon!” he called, getting closer.

“How was your meeting? Did you convince Minister Wollen to take on teaching duties at the academy?”

Agnarr drew close and kissed her, his arm around her waist.

“Convincing her was easy. I can now talk Anna into taking naps, so anything pales in comparison to that.”

Hearing her name, Anna looked up. “Papa!” She pulled herself out of the dirt and ran over to give him a muddy hug. He bent down to embrace her, and gave her a tight squeeze. She released him and went back to her patch of dirt. 

“What are you doing, Elsa?”

She held up the ice trowel and Agnarr marveled over it, exclaiming, “What a wonderful likeness! Will it work?”

Elsa smiled and showed him how she could dig with it. “This is the fifth one. The others weren’t so good.”

Agnarr leaned over to give her a kiss on the head. “It’s good you kept trying. First tries are not usually perfect. You have to keep working to get it right sometimes. That’s good for a future queen to know.” Elsa grinned at him and then went back to perfecting the trowel, trying to add the rosemaling design that was on the handle of Anna’s.

“I was planning to ask you if you could spare some time from your duties to go on a walk in the woods with us. I’m sure you could use the break.”

Agnarr laughed. “Governing is difficult work, but keeping up with these two is harder. But a better job no one could find.” He kissed her again and said “Let’s go now. We have time before the Sundbergs join us for dinner. And my jacket is already muddy, so it’d be a shame to waste that.”

***  
After dinner and dessert and a little bit of dancing, Iduna and Agnarr said goodnight to Henrik and his family. Elsa and Anna had been put to bed by the nanny a few hours earlier, and were hopefully asleep by now. Walking upstairs, Iduna asked “Did you mean what you said earlier? That being king is easier than being a father?”

Agnarr nodded. “I do believe that to be true. But I know ‘king’ is the only title out of those two that I would willingly give up.”

Iduna linked her arm in his, voices quieting as they walked past the girls’ room. “As king, you can assign all of our best people to the task at hand. Minister Wollen for any delicate matters of diplomacy. Captain Calder for trade disputes. With the girls, we can’t have someone else decide how much dinner is enough to warrant a chocolate course, or how well-behaved a two-year-old should be during a church service.”

Agnarr thought to himself that was exactly what a royal nanny usually did, but didn’t want to speak it aloud. He hadn’t liked spending more time with a nanny than with his father as a child, and since Iduna had no experience in the lives of royalty prior to living in the castle, he saw no reason to tell her of the traditions that neither one of them would like. 

“It’s a weighty responsibility, taking care of their wellbeing. I suppose a king has the wellbeing of an entire kingdom to concern himself with, but it’s more about the structures and policies that allow the people to thrive. With Anna and Elsa there are so many things I want to get right, so many things I want to say and experiences I want them to have and to avoid. I’m glad we don’t have as many children as we have subjects.”

Iduna laughed. “What a thought!”

Agnarr opened the door to their room and put his hand on her back to guide her to the couch. They sat down and took their usual nighttime spots. Iduna’s head rested on the end of the couch, her feet in his lap. Agnarr took off his formal coat and they sat that way in silence for a time, Agnarr thinking about his conversation with Henrik in the library as they waited for dinner to be served.

“Henrik told me you helped his wife with some preventative measures after their last. That was a frightening birth, he said. Each of ours have been a terror for me, and hearing him tell of how she almost died, I – “

He stopped, unable to continue, unsure of what words to use to convey what he felt. He took a breath, and then his voice changed, like he was in a council meeting strategizing for the best way forward out of a crisis. No emotion, just a plan that needed to be put into motion. “I don’t want any more children. We have two healthy daughters and I am blessed. I don’t want to risk losing you, Iduna. I couldn’t. I lived without a family for years before we were married and even then I had you as a friend. I need you. Please – do what you have to do to keep it from happening again. If there’s something I should drink, I will. No more children.” The pleading in his eyes belied the king’s command of his statement.

Iduna’s hand dropped, but she kept it in her lap. “But a son – don’t you want a son to take over as king?”

“We don’t need a male heir. Elsa will make a fine queen. The English were fine with Queen Elizabeth and now Queen Victoria is doing well. Arendelle’s flag will always fly. It doesn’t need to fly under the rule of a king. As you show me daily, queens are very capable. If it means your life or a son, I choose you.” He turned to look at her, smiling with a sadness behind it. “Did you want more children?”

Iduna looked alert now, the relaxed sleepiness in her posture gone. She paused before answering, her voice quiet. “I hadn’t thought about not having more. But I will give it thought.” They were silent, Agnarr tense and still. 

He stood, an abrupt motion that unsteadied her position on the couch, and she felt unmoored, shifting back and forth. “I’ll go down the hall and get Gerda to bring up some glogg. Perhaps the chocolate cake from dinner?” Iduna nodded and he left.

***  
It was good to have a minute alone with her thoughts. She so rarely had that luxury. Being a mother was more wonderful and more difficult than she had imagined, and though she had longed for it, she sometimes mourned the loss of freedom and loss of sleep.

Since becoming a mother, she had never felt completely calm. There had always been worry, a constant companion as she thought about what was best for Elsa and Anna, what she could do to protect them, what she could do to prepare them for the life of a princess when it was still so foreign to her. Her capacity for joy seemed to have increased, as well as her capacity for fear.

And then Elsa’s powers – it hadn’t opened her forest homeland the way she thought it would, but it could at any moment. At any moment, more people could find out about Elsa’s magic and their reactions might not be as delighted as Agnarr’s had been. She hadn’t forgotten the Arendellians’ suspicion about the magic her people used in the forest. Suspicion and fear were unpredictable. She worried daily, hourly, about what that meant for Elsa. It was with her when she woke, when she saw her daughter perform her enchanting miracles, when she tried to drift off at night with troubled thoughts.

Iduna thought about the fear in Agnarr’s tone as he made his request and realized that he wasn’t asking this for her sake or for the kingdom. She understood that he was asking her to do this for him, a request not from a King to a Queen, but a husband to a wife. 

She knew what it was to be fearful. She knew what it was to lose a loved one and never quite recover.

Agnarr entered the room with two mugs of glogg. “I couldn’t find anyone still awake to serve us the cake.”

Iduna reached for the cup and squeezed his hand as she took it, thanking him. As they settled back into the couch, she pressed her body against his, head on his shoulder, thigh against thigh. She wanted him to feel her closeness, to feel that she was alive and well.

“I like that I can see my mother in Elsa’s face, Duvka in Anna’s playfulness. Having a child is like a way to see, to remember, the family I’ve lost. A way for them to live on.”

Iduna placed her mug on the floor and took one of his hands in two of hers and held it tightly. “But I don’t need more children.” She sought his eyes and spoke, willing him to hear and believe what she was saying. “It would be nice to not end up like that poor Queen of the Southern Isles. She just had her thirteenth son the year Elsa was born. Thirteen boys! It’s a given at least one of them won’t turn out right.”

Agnarr relaxed into the couch as she spoke, receiving the gift of her light-hearted acquiescence, his laugh one of relief and joy. “Probably several of them won’t turn out right.”

“Tell Midwife Jora the sad news that she is out of royal work indefinitely. And don’t keep doing that with your hand or else we will need her after all. I’ll need a few days to get the brew going.”

“I think I can figure out something for us to do in the meantime.” Agnarr leaned in to kiss her, his relief at her agreement making him feel giddy, and he felt he had secured a future of joy.

***

The winter was the best time to take the girls to Market Square. No one noticed in the chilly weather if Elsa’s touch made something turn to ice or grow cold. Anna in particular liked watching the busy activities of the market, the sailors unloading goods, the fishermen stacking their catch on mounds of ice, the Yuletide bunting being hung over doorways and windows. Now the yearly royal visit to Eir’s came before the bell was rung, to give out coats and mittens to the children so they were well dressed for the ceremony within the castle gates. Eir smiled watching Anna and Elsa at play in the snow with the children in her care, and if she noticed that Elsa was able to make more snowballs than anyone else, or more than seemed possible from the pile of snow she had been near, she didn’t say anything.

***

When the royal family stood in front of open doors and rang the Yule Bell, everyone noticed the pride in the king’s smile as he and Elsa held the rope, the queen holding Anna. Elsa’s bare hands clutched the rope and she pulled. Agnarr, gripping it further up, pulled as well and the loud tolling startled Anna who laughed and reached for the rope herself. Agnarr smiled to see it, and hoped she would always reach for what she wanted, and that it would always be within her grasp.

***

In August, Anna was three and she was a little easier than she had been at two. She was now a constant companion to her sister, begging her to “do the magic” and utterly enthralled with the ice and snow Elsa conjured. Iduna and Agnarr liked to watch them at play, creating worlds and voicing stories that were so imaginative, they thought of inviting that Danish author to come listen and be inspired.   
But bedtime had gotten harder, and Anna, now out of a crib and in a bed, would wake her sister up and beg her for a nighttime session of playing with the ice. And one night, it ended in disaster.

***

Iduna clutched Anna to her chest as she slumbered peacefully, so relieved that she would heal from her injury that she couldn’t speak. Magical wounds were not something she could cure, and though the trolls were no friends of hers, she was grateful for the healing. She was not grateful for the words of prophecy Pabbie spoke. The last time she heard his voice, he was telling her to leave her home. Now, he was showing her a vision of a mob pulling and tearing at her eldest daughter, and she thought about the body in the woods, the murdered Northuldra man. The fear she felt as a fourteen-year-old was just as pressing, just as strangling as it had been then. She had no words, it felt like they had been pulled out of her by a frenzied mob. Agnarr’s rang out in the clearing, echoing loudly among the trolls and the rocks. “No, we’ll protect her. She can learn to control it I’m sure. ‘Til then we’ll lock the gates. Reduce the staff. We will limit her contact with people. We’ll keep her powers hidden from everyone. Including Anna.”

Iduna looked down at Anna and thought that this was a death after all. A death of a kind. Certainly an ending, and one from which she did not know how to begin again.


End file.
